


vir atish'an

by pancakesandplaid



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Arlathan AU, Gen, Spoilers for DA:I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 13:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3174794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pancakesandplaid/pseuds/pancakesandplaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Surely even you can see it is time for action, child of Sylaise," Fen’Harel’s brows knitted as he spoke, the frustration evident in his tone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	vir atish'an

"Surely even you can see it is time for action, child of Sylaise," Fen’Harel’s brows knitted as he spoke, the frustration evident in his tone.

"Action I will take, Fen’Harel, but not to harm. I am sworn to my duties as High Priest to Sylaise. I cannot take part in this plot," the priest replied gently — always gently — and moved on to continue his duties, even as Fen’Harel paced about the room, hand set to his chin as he thought of the current events.

"Your presence and pacing are unnerving my patients." The statement was said wryly, even as the priest closed a refugee’s wounds with his magic and herbs. There were certainly a few curious eyes, most afraid, glancing over at Fen’Harel. He stood for Rebellion, but rebellion was also most certainly tied in, if not synonymous, with trouble.

Sylaise herself was nowhere to be found in this temple itself. Perhaps attempting to calm down her sister’s bloodlust once more, tending to the victims of Andruil’s hunt, or with the brother, June. With Sylaise, Fen’Harel himself had no ill will towards her, save for the fact that she never once thought to stop her sister or at least sway Andruil from her savage ways. _‘I cannot change her, Dread Wolf,’_ Sylaise had replied serenely. _‘There are other ways to fight.’_  But how could passivity and acceptance constitude for a fight?

Shaking his head, the gentle elf came to Fen’Harel once more, guiding him to the guest rooms set aside in the temple.

"Rest, Harellan. You will need your strength for the coming days."

 

* * *

 

The war had been raging on for long. Between those of immortal lives, the ancients, the bloodshed spanned through years, decades, into centuries. None could out run this storm.

Still Fen’Harel walked between the factions, spurring distrust and unease, backed only by the ones who dared or could step away from the ones that held the leash, or those discarded by the likes of society.

But the number of refugees and injured were increasing, and even deaths, though nothing could be done for them now. The ones still here had to be aided first.

Soon it would be time for Arlathan’s fall— They knew it, they feared it. They saw it coming, ages ago.

"You’ve only a moment to prepare, child of Sylaise," Fen’Harel spoke sternly as he shifted back into his form, leaving behind the regal wolf to speak. He spared a glance at the refugees— some could still fight, if they dared. But there were too many in total, and the forces were coming. It would be demanded of the priest to pick a side, to join, though Sylaise already was slain. The world was most cruel to its kindest spirits.

"Thank you for the warning," he said, with the same serene nature as Sylaise even till the day she passed. To the man that always stayed by the priest's side - blonde of hair, one of the dirth’ena enansal - "There is a way out from inside the Chapel. From the basement, it reaches beneath the earth and leads out into the deepest reaches of the woods in the Southern lands. You need only tell the refugees that information for me as I prepare my spell."

The arcane warrior looked at the priest sharply, worry in his eyes, but he left at the priest’s behest.

Fen’Harel took another form of his own and waited. There was nothing to be gained here from revealing himself, and it was not yet time to unveil his plans of betrayal. And the priest had asked him not to intervene. He disagreed, of course, but would have argued if it seemed the man did not have ideas of his own. And so he could only watch as a troop of soldiers marched upon the small chapel.

"High Priest of Sylaise, we know you’ve been housing deserters-"

"I’ve been healing those who asked for it. I know not whence they came from."

The ward protecting the chapel was already in place, and by this time, the refugees must have placed considerable distance behind them. An act of defiance, in his own gentle way. Not bending, and yet not raising a hand to attack, as he was sworn not to.  _Vir Atish’an._

Fen’Harel watched, teeth gritting, as the man was slain, and the soldiers attempted to break through the ward only to find that they could not.

(In the middle of the night later, he finds a sapling of a cypress to mark where the priest had fallen. He deserved that much.)

 

* * *

 

 

He called himself  _pride._  

It was one of the many things they had in common, after all. They were not so dissimilar from each other. 

Sometimes he wonders if the lines blur. He sees through the eyes of the Wolf as well as his own.

"Hope you’re travelling past the Hunterhorns. Kal-Sharok is a little unknown to most, or so I’ve heard. I’ll feel better knowing I have someone to travel through it with," a Dalish man greeted upon meeting him, lips curled. They’d bumped into each other, or rather Solas did, into the elf’s camp underneath a cypress tree. The elf in question seemed to be a kindly person, if simply observed from diposition alone.

In his head, he saw visions of a priest long ago. The Wolf quietened after, in his mind.

"I doubt anyone would come this far otherwise. If we are to be travelling, perhaps introductions are in order: I am Solas."

"I’m Mahariel. Pleased to meet you."

**Author's Note:**

> * In this fic, Solas and Fen'Harel are not the same person. Think of it as Flemeth and Mythal. As to who Solas was, I decided not to mention my idea for that.  
> * In case anyone is interested, my Mahariel is Arvel Mahariel, a gentle compassionate man who just ends up in a lot of sad/tragedic situations... he cant catch a break, haha.  
> * The priest and Mahariel technically wouldn't be the same person unless there's such a thing as reincarnation in Thedas, I suppose. Mahariel could be a descendant of the priest or someone related. I left it open-ended.  
> * This fic is just to explore my Arlathan AU.  
> * The idea just spawned from Mahariel being a priest and Zevran being an arcane warrior during those times :')  
> * At the end of the game Solas is headed west... And the Hero of Ferelden is also headed west! I did some digging around, and figured they'd needed to go past the mountains, and since Kal-Sharok is there, that's probably how they're going to go through the mountains.


End file.
